Wizard Wars: Return of the Auror
by Liz Mann
Summary: Adrian has no memory of the first twenty one years of his life. But now, fifteen years later, a strange dream acts as the catalyst for his memory returning, and he remembers who he is. He knows he must go home, but has no idea what he'll find when he does
1. The Dam Breaks

Chapter One:

The Dam Breaks

Adrian yawned widely as he opened the front door and stepped inside at last. It had been a long night. He closed the door on the bitingly cold wind outside and delighted in the comfortable warmth of the house. They couldn't really afford to keep the heating on throughout the night, but he was sincerely glad they did. His cheeks were raw, his ears were scarlet and his fingers and toes were frozen numb. He pulled off his gloves, scarf and coat, which were all flecked with snow, and hung them on the radiator, then kicked off his shoes, feeling the soft carpet underneath his feet.

"That you, Adi?"

"No, it's Father Christmas with a sack full of toys. Can't use the chimney anymore, everybody's gone electric. 'Course it's me, you idiot!"

Reiley came down the stairs, grinning. "Have you still not grasped the fact that Christmas comes in summer in this part of the world?" Adrian grunted. "Good time at work?" Reiley asked innocently.

"What do you think?" said Adrian irritably.

"Ah well, could be worse."

"Worse?" said Adrian, raising an eyebrow incredulously as he took off his glasses to scrape the ice off the lenses. "The only thing worse would be to have a job cleaning the pavement by licking it! You try staying out all night in a bloody blizzard and see how you like it. Though, by the looks of things you're planning on finding out." He surveyed his friend with a mildly disbelieving eye. Reiley was dressed in a tracksuit and trainers. He shook his head. "How the hell you can say there's something weird about me when you go out jogging at six a.m. while it's below zero outside I'll never know."

"I have to get it in before work. Anyway, you know me, I never let a little thing like foot-high snow get in the way of my routine."

Adrian snorted. "Reiley, the sun blowing up wouldn't get in the way of your routine!"

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Well _I_ have already nearly frozen to death and now I'm going to bed to thaw out. You do what you want, but I'll be hammering you out of a giant ice block later."

"Probably. Get the mallet ready. See you later, Adi."

Adrian grunted again and Reiley left. Barking, he thought, shaking his head.

He walked down the hall to the kitchen to put the kettle on. He needed something to make him stop shivering. He couldn't wait to get to bed. Every muscle in his body felt like he'd put it through a five day workout and his eyes were itching with tiredness. He had to force them to stay open, which made them water and sent a noise like wind rushing through his ears.

Working the graveyard shift meant that he kept very odd hours. In winter he hardly ever saw more than a couple of hours of daylight, coming home from work at six a.m., going straight to bed and waking up around three. How he loathed his job! As soon as he found something better he was going to quit. But then, he'd been saying that for over a year now.

Unable to support himself any longer, Adrian slumped down into one of the kitchen chairs and leaned back, closing his eyes wearily.

This was his life. It had been for almost as long as he could remember. 'A fresh start' the doctor had called it. A clean slate. Well, maybe, but Adrian wished he knew what had been on the slate before it was wiped off. Even after all these years, there still wasn't a day that went by when he didn't feel like this wasn't the life he was supposed to be living. That he wasn't supposed to be here. Of course this was obvious, he supposed. He _wasn't_ supposed to be here. But he just couldn't move on. It was like an insect was constantly buzzing round his head twenty four hours a day, wherever he went, whatever he did. He'd told Reiley this, of course, but even though he sympathised with him he didn't _know_. No one did. No one knew what it was like to have a limited memory. To know that there could be people out there needing you but there's nothing you can do about it. How it felt to wake up in a hospital bed and not know who you were, where you were or why you were there. It was like the very first moment of his life and he didn't know what the hell was going on. He never celebrated his birthday, because he didn't know when it was. All he knew of his age was how old he looked. Adrian wasn't even his real name.

He had had very few clues over the years as to who he was. Certain names seemed to mean something to him, but he didn't know what. Sometimes someone would say something that would trigger off a vague image or sound in his head, but it never hung around long enough for him to try and figure out what it was. These things were of no real help to him. It was clear, however, that there was something odd about him. He said things, did things, that even he couldn't explain. For example, a few years ago, he and Reiley had been watching a football match on television, when Adrian had found himself saying, "You know, this game would be far more interesting if it were played up in the air." Reiley had looked at him as though he were off his rocker and said that it was probably best if he didn't mention that to anyone else.

And last week, while watching a soap opera, Adrian had responded to the revelation that a character had cheated on his wife for the third time in two months with, "Oh, for the love of Merlin!" He'd only realised what he was saying after it had left his mouth. Reiley had laughed and told him again what he had told him a hundred times before – "You're weird, Adi."

And then there was all the times he couldn't find his keys and had subconsciously muttered, "Accio keys." This one was particularly strange, because since when did he know Latin?

But these were all only small oddities. If it was just these then Adrian might not have minded. The thing that really puzzled him was all the unexplainable things that seemed to happen around him. For instance, several years ago at work, before he'd started doing the graveyard shift, his boss had been shouting at him for being late for the third time running, and Adrian, who wasn't listening to a word the man was saying, had been staring at his moustache. While his boss's hair was thin and grey (and practically non-existent), his moustache was think, bushy and auburn, clearly dyed to cover the grey that was almost certainly in that too. The whole package looked extremely odd. In fact, Adrian had just been thinking that it couldn't look odder if it had been bright green when, all of a sudden, it was!

Adrian had almost jumped in shock. His boss, of course, didn't notice… until people started gaping and laughing, and he had looked in a compact mirror his secretary had given him. Adrian, who had slipped out of the room so as not to be in the line of fire, had had to fight to keep from laughing himself stupid as he heard the horrified yell echoing after him.

This incident was one of a number of similar ones. Things would change colour, change size, appear, disappear, explode… but Adrian always felt sure somehow that they were connected to him. He couldn't explain it. But if he could just figure out why these things had happened, then it might give him a clue as to who he was and what had happened to erase his memory like that.

All he knew for sure was that he had lived in England. He'd been told by the doctors that he was found in the wreck of a house in a small village near the hospital; that they hadn't found anyone else there; that no one had come forward claiming to know him; that the wreckage was so bad some of it couldn't be safely shifted; that he had hit his head so hard it had been split open, giving him a concussion and erasing his memory; and that he was lucky even to be alive. The doctors had said that they couldn't possibly tell if his memory would ever come back. If it did it could be weeks, months, years… Much to Adrian's annoyance, they had seemed to be fascinated by him. A case like his wasn't very common, apparently.

They were also astonished at how quickly he had recovered. When he first woke up he had had speech and motor problems caused by the injury, but they cleared up so fast that the doctors were left amazed. They had expected extensive therapy to be needed. In the end, unable to come up with an explanation, they had just put it down as one of those odd things that happens from time to time.

The police had spoken to him. Obviously they were treating the matter as suspicious… a house being wrecked like that? What on earth could have caused it? But after a while, when it became clear that there was no information he could give them, they had dropped the case from lack of evidence. The press had reported on the incident and also wondered at his injuries (or lack of where the case may be) but he refused to talk to them.

Adrian had left hospital after nearly a month of recovery, by which point the white walls and the sights and sounds of the other patients had been starting to drive him mad. It had felt so strange to walk out into a world he knew nothing about, full of people he didn't know going about their daily routines, not knowing where to go or what to do. He had visited the wreck of the house, which had been roped off by the police, but it hadn't brought back any kind of memories. He'd even wandered around to all the neighbours' houses, asking in near desperation whether they knew him or not, hoping and preying that someone would open the door and gasp to see him. But no one had. He suspected they had thought him strange. Eventually, helpless and defeated, he had checked into a shelter for the homeless, completely alone and desolate.

After a couple of days he was able to think more clearly. The first thing he needed to do was get a job. This proved to be difficult, because he had no idea what qualifications he had. In the end, after making up a new name for himself, he had managed to get a job as a bartender in a pub. But it didn't pay much, and he would never be able to pay for his own place on his own. So he had looked in the local paper for people needing a roommate. That was how he had met Reiley. The two of them had become close friends and when, three years later, Reiley had got a job out here, Adrian had decided to come with him. There was nothing left for him in England. And yet he felt like a part of him had been left behind there, as though there was some place he was meant to be, someone he was supposed to be with. This was the reason he had never had any female friends over the years, despite the number of times Reiley had tried to set him up.

Although, there was another reason for that too, one that he'd never told anyone, not even Reiley, because he was half embarrassed.

The truth was Adrian was completely and hopelessly in love. Very early on he had been possessed by a reckless passion that invaded his sleep, stopped him from eating and even sometimes made him feel like he couldn't breathe, but at the same time made him feel about ten feet tall. The only problem was… she was nothing but a vision in a dream. She appeared in his sleep sometimes, and he didn't even know for sure if he'd met her, though he felt sure he must have done, otherwise why would he keep dreaming about her? Every time she appeared to him she got a little bit clearer, starting as just a vague blur of colour and growing gradually more focused, until he could see every minute detail. She was like a phantom, gliding in and out of his dreams as though just popping in to make sure everything was in order.

He knew it was crazy to feel so strongly about a person in a dream, but he couldn't help it. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd considered just packing up here and going back to England to look for her. But every time his common sense had gotten the better of him. The fact was he had no chance of finding her. How would he even go about it? He had no name, nothing. And if, by some miracle, he did find her, what would he say to her? "Hi. Listen, I have no idea who you are, but I've been dreaming about you for fifteen years, so could you please tell me who you are and how I know you?" Even inside his head the words sounded dumb.

There was nothing for him in England that he knew how to find. And however much he may despise it sometimes, he had a life here. He knew the people, he knew the surroundings, he had a job and at least one good friend that he could count on. He was no better off living in England than he was here. In fact, he'd probably be considerably worse off, because he'd have to start again for the third time, and he didn't relish the idea of that.

Sitting in the kitchen now, Adrian's eyes were dropping. He folded his arms on the table and rested his head against them. Five seconds later, he was fast asleep.

_He was walking in darkness. His feet were making no sound on the ground beneath him. This was strange… how had he ended up here?_

"_Jaa-aaames…"_

_He froze. That voice… it sounded so familiar, and he didn't know why… It was like a memory from a previous life._

"_Jaa-aaames…"_

_It was almost heavenly – gentle, welcoming, enticing and… ghostly, all at the same time. He wondered for a moment if maybe he had died, and she was calling to him from the beyond, guiding him to where he needed to go._

"_Jaaaaames…"_

_And then he realised. He wasn't sure how, he just knew._

_It was _her

_He walked on, searching for her. Her voice seemed to reach inside his chest and wrap around his heart, creating within him this inexpressible longing to find her, hold her, keep her close and never lose her again. And yet he was confused. That wasn't his name she was calling… was it?_

_There was a light ahead of him. He broke into a run. It grew bigger and bigger and brighter and brighter until it almost blinded him. He stopped. Squinting, he looked up. There she was. The woman who had haunted him for fifteen years._

_He had only ever seen her this clearly once before. Her fiery red hair was swept back off a face in a wind that he could not feel; her eyes were like two emerald stars so bright that they almost seemed to glow; her skin was perfect, smooth, unblemished and pale as the surface of the moon; she was dressed in a long white gown that was fluttering gently in the same breeze that moved her hair; and she was surrounded by a mystical white light that seemed to come from her herself. So beautiful… she was so beautiful he had to take deep breaths to steady his pounding heart, and beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. She was like an angel, and he loved her so much it caused him pain._

_She was holding the baby again this time. He was nestled in her arms, so small and helpless that it almost broke Adrian's heart… he felt somehow that this tiny infant was in some kind of danger._

"_James."_

_He started. It suddenly struck him that this was the first time she had spoken to him. Normally she would just stand and gaze at him out of those fathomless green eyes, eyes which, he now realised, had tears in them – pearly white tears were sliding down her pale cheeks. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet, gentle and mournful._

"_He is dead, James. He is dead. Harry needs you now… you must go to him. Remember him, James… remember everything… Go to our son… He needs you… Remember, James… remember…"_

_From far away, he could hear a shrill whistle…_

"_Remember him…"_

_It was growing louder._

"_Remember me…"_

_He could feel himself being pulled away. He panicked._

"_Remember…"_

He jerked awake. The whistle was the kettle. He was sitting at the kitchen table, chest heaving, sweat pouring from his skin. It was as though a dam had burst inside his head, releasing a tidal wave of memories that had been blocked from him for the last fifteen years, letting them rush over him in a torrent that made him feel as though he was drowning. The whole of the first twenty four years of his life flashed before him in a few seconds.

Lily… Harry… _Voldemort_… Oh God…

From far off, he heard the sound of the front door slamming shut.


	2. James's Story

Chapter Two:

James's Story

Footsteps came down the hall towards the kitchen and Reiley entered. There were flecks of snow in his hair and he was shivering slightly.

"Okay, you know how I said a little thing like foot-high snow wouldn't interrupt my routine? Well, I take it back, it's the third ice age out there!" He stopped. "Adi? Are you all right? Adrian!"

James had suddenly sprung to his feet, only to find that his legs were too numb to support him. He crumpled to the floor and lay there, shaking violently and gasping for air. He was vaguely aware of Reiley kneeling next to him, but his voice seemed a thousand miles away. The only thing that occupied his mind was Lily and Harry… and Voldemort. _Oh God, no… no… oh God, oh God, oh God…_

He didn't even realise that these words were coming out of his mouth. Or that to an onlooker he appeared to be having some kind of fit. Or that Reiley was saying he was going to call for help. One thing and one thing alone had penetrated his thoughts… he had to go back.

All of a sudden James was spurred into action. He jumped to his feet again and immediately his head swam. He stood there for a moment, swaying slightly, and then, legs still weak, he dragged himself out of the kitchen and down the hall. Reiley was standing by the phone but James didn't think to care who he was talking to. All rational thought was gone from his head. He didn't think about _how_ he planned to get back, or that it was below zero outside and he didn't have a coat or even shoes. He just walked straight to the door.

"Adi."

A hand closed on his arm and held him back. He shook it off and reached for the doorknob.

"Never mind, he's better now, sorry." Reiley hung up the phone and pulled James back. "Adi, what the hell are you doing?"

"I've got to go back."

"Back where?"

"Lily and Harry…"

"Who?"

"He was trying to kill them…"

"What are you talking about?"

"Let me go…"  
"No."

"_Let me go_!"

"Adi, you're not going anywhere, you're not well…"

"I'm fine! I have to go back…"

"You're not fine…"

"LET ME GO!"

"Just calm down, all right?"

James grabbed him by the collar and shook him. "THEY COULD BE DEAD! THEY COULD BE DEAD AND YOU WANT ME TO CALM DOWN? THEY COULD HAVE DIED, HE COULD HAVE KILLED THEM, HE…"

Reiley hit him round the face. For a few moments, both of them just stood there, the only sound that of James's heavy breathing. Finally, Reiley put a hand on James's shoulder.

"Adi… I'm sorry. Just… just come into the living room, sit down and tell me what's going on."

_It was Harry's crying that woke them. James groaned and rolled over._

"_Your turn."_

"_What do you mean 'my turn'? It was my turn last night. And the night before. _And_ the night before that. When is it ever your turn?"_

"_Tomorrow night."_

"_That's what you said yesterday. And the day before. And the day before tha…"_

"_All right, all right, I'm going…"_

_Lily grinned into her pillow. "Knew I'd get you there eventually."_

"_Cow."_

_She laughed. James hauled himself out of bed. Yawning widely and rubbing his eyes, he trudged out of the bedroom and down the hall to the nursery. Harry was sitting up in his cot. The moment he saw James come in, he stopped crying and started to giggle._

_James grinned in spite of himself. "Yes, it's actually me this time. Your mother achieved the impossible."_

_He approached the cot and gave a short bow._

"_What is your command, O' Son of the Annoyingly-Commanding Goddess?"_

"_Beh! Beh!"_

"_I'm terribly sorry, sire, I forgot my Baby Language dictionary."_

_He picked up the tiny infant and looked around in the cot._

"_Where's that bear of yours, eh? Where is he? Where is he? Has he run off and hidden again? Or did someone imprison him somewhere for the servants to find later?" Harry giggled again. "You're a right little pixy, aren't you? Why do you have to wait until near midnight before you want us to look for him? Come on, let's go look. Saddle the flying horses and let's be off on the quest!"_

_Carrying a still giggling Harry, James walked out of the nursery and onto the landing. The house was silent and still, the darkness disturbed only by pale moonlight shining in through the hall windows, casting shimmers of silvery light upon the floor and reflecting off the frames of the pictures on the walls. The occupants of these were breathing softly and didn't stir as James slipped past them and down the stairs. He paused at the bottom, thinking. Through the window he could see the branches of the oak tree outside swaying softly in the autumn breeze; he could hear it whispering in a hushed, almost nervous way. He wasn't quite sure where to start looking. Harry had hidden the toy in all sorts of places before. He seemed to know that if he put it behind something James and Lily would search for it. Lily said he encouraged Harry by making a game out of it, but James didn't mind, even if he did have to get up at near midnight to play. It was worth it to see Harry's adorable glee when the bear was found._

_Turning on the lights, he searched the living room and then the kitchen, but he couldn't find the bear. Getting sleepy again, he tried to remember where Harry had been that day. But it was no good because the kid had been just about everywhere. He could never sit still for more than five minutes, especially since he'd learnt to walk. James wandered back into the living room, put Harry down on the sofa and looked behind it._

"_What the heck have you done with the blasted thing?"_

_He looked up and noticed that Harry was staring at the photos on the unit next to the fireplace. James looked too, and saw it almost immediately. It was stuffed behind one of the picture frames. Of course! Lily had sat him on it for a few moments earlier. James let out a mock sigh of distress._

"_Oh where could it be! I have absolutely no idea!" he said dramatically, scratching his head and pulling his face into an exaggeratedly confused expression. Harry was giggling again. "I guess you're just too clever for me!" he continued, wandering over to the unit. "I wonder where it is! It must have disappeared! Or maybe… it's… here!"_

_He whipped the bear out from behind the photo and Harry squealed in delight. James laughed. He was a weird kid, but then look who his father was. He picked Harry up again._

"_Maybe now you'll let your mother and me get some sleep."_

_But Harry's eyes were already starting to droop. With the bear clutched in one hand, and James's shirt in the other, Harry leaned his head against his father's chest and fell asleep almost instantly. James felt his heart swell, and he held his son tighter, stroking the boy's dark hair. Why did the child have to have so much resting on his shoulders? What the hell was this tiny, defenceless little thing now sleeping so peacefully in his arms going to have to go through when he was older?_

_A sudden feeling of foreboding crept through James as he stood in the quiet room. It was like a warning signal had flared inside his mind, but he couldn't explain why. All his senses heightened, and impulse made him clutch Harry tighter still. The world wasn't just quiet anymore – it was deathly quiet. Even the wind in the tree seemed to have held its breath in apprehension. He had this horrible feeling that something was about to happen – but what possibly could? They were safe here, weren't they? The house was protected by a Fidelius Charm. If he doubted their safety then he doubted Peter's reliability. Old Wormtail might be a bit of a pushover at times, but he would never tell a soul where they were, not with his friends' lives on the line. And he must have thought himself up to the job or he wouldn't have been so eager to take it._

_No, James would not doubt Peter's loyalty. Still, he found himself listening for the slightest hint of anything out of the ordinary. But there was nothing. And yet even so, as he turned out the lights in the living room and went back into the hall, he could not banish that awful feeling. In fact, it was growing stronger with every beat of his heart._

_Lily appeared on the upstairs landing in her white nightdress._

"_What are you doing up?" James whispered._

"_I couldn't get back to sleep. Aw, bless!" she sighed fondly, seeing Harry nestled in James's arms._

"_Yeah, he's cute now, but he'll be a terror in a few years."_

"_Well, I'm hoping there's enough of my genes in him to counter that."_

_James gave a weak smile._

"_Are you all right?" Lily asked, frowning. "You look pale."_

_James paused, wondering if he should tell her._

"_It's just… I hate all this. I hate being in hiding, I hate Harry being in danger and I _hate_ the fact that the whole world is resting on Harry's shoulders. He's just a baby, for God's sake, and he's got a bloody psychopath out to kill him."_

_Lily looked down at him with a look of sorrow on her face. The moonlight was shining on her, making her seem to glow with an unearthly light. James's heart stood still in admiration, though he had no idea at the time that he would see her like this later in his dreams._

"_Oh, honey… so do I. I have countless nightmares about something terrible happening to him. I see Voldemort standing over him, laughing, us lying dead on the floor…But the important thing for now is to stop him finding Harry. There's nothing our son can do for at least the next sixteen years, so let's just worry about it nearer the time, okay?"_

_James nodded. For a moment he considered telling her about his feeling of foreboding. But looking at her, the words just wouldn't come out. He was probably just being stupid and he didn't want to frighten her over nothing._

"_Yeah… yeah, you're right. As always."_

_She smiled slightly. "Turn the hall light out before you come up, all right?" She disappeared into the bedroom._

_James stood there for a minute or so, thinking. His brain knew she was right, but all his other senses were telling him she was wrong. Finally, deciding that he had probably just scared himself by thinking about Harry's future, he turned around to turn off the hall light…_

_There was a face at the window._

_James reeled back against the banister in horror, wrapping his arms around his son like a shield._

_A terrible demented grin spread over Voldemort's face as though in manic triumph, like he'd won some kind of game… like Hide, Seek and Destroy…_

"_I see you, James… you can't hide from me…"_

"_LILY!"  
Harry woke with a start and began to wail. James pelted up the stairs as Lily came running out of the bedroom._

"_LILY, TAKE HARRY AND GO! IT'S HIM! GO! RUN! I'LL HOLD HIM OFF – "_

"_What?"_

"_IT'S HIM! HE'S FOUND US! GET HARRY OUT OF HERE, NOW!"_

_He shoved the screaming child into his terrified wife's arms._

"_GO!"_

_There was a click and James spun around as the front door opened. A black hooded figure came into the hall, head turned up towards them, a wand grasped in a pale hand._

"_Accio wand!"_

_James's own wand came flying out of the bedroom and into his hand. Without hesitating, he threw a curse at Voldemort, catching him off guard and hitting him in the chest with such force that he was thrown backwards into the door._

"_Try and get out the back!" James shot at Lily, running down the stairs to continue the fight._

_But Voldemort had already recovered. _

"_Crucio!"_

_White hot knives were cutting into every inch of James's body, tearing at his flesh. He screamed and toppled forwards, rolling down the last of the stairs and lying in a crumpled and writhing heap at the bottom. His fingernails dug into his palms, drawing blood. The pain went on and on – and then vanished so suddenly that it was a shock in itself. But the screaming continued, except it was coming from Lily. James lay on the floor, his energy almost completely drained. Voldemort was laughing. James shivered at the sound._

"_And here I thought getting past one of the Ministry's most celebrated Aurors would be a challenge," said Voldemort. "I guess they're just not training like they used to."_

_Slowly, James raised his head to look at Voldemort, breathing deeply, his brown eyes blazing and determined, every muscle in his body tensing for action._

"_Don't you know insulting people only makes them more determined to kick your arse?"_

_Summoning all his strength, James struck back with a well-aimed Conjunctivitis Curse. Voldemort gave a shriek of pain and grasped at his eyes, stumbling backwards._ _James seized the moment to get to his feet,_ _but his spell didn't last long and a moment later they were locked in a heavy duel, neither taking their eyes off each other for a moment. Every half second had become vitally crucial. _

_Panic threatened to consume James. Pictures and vases were shattered, pieces of furniture were overturned, and through it all Harry's frightened cries rang shrilly in James's ears. They seemed to be fighting for hours. James could barely keep Voldemort's curses at bay. Voldemort grinned._

"_Quite the set of lungs, hasn't he? But you needn't worry, he'll be silent soon."_

_A flash of burning anger seared through James._ _"Levicorpus!"_

_Voldemort reflected the spell. "How childish, Potter. You can do better than that."_

_James could feel his face burning with rage._

"_Stupefy!"_

_Blocked again. Voldemort was laughing now. "How original!"_

"_I wasn't going for originality, Voldie."_

_Voldemort's eyes flashed. "That's the problem with you Aurors. Always doing everything by the book. But I must say, I admire your audacity. Most people who make the kind of mistakes you do wouldn't be able to talk back like that."_

"_What do you mean the kind of mistakes I make?" James sneered._

"_Potter, haven't you realised yet? You led me straight to you. You gave the crucial information to the very person who could pass it on to me. Now your family is going to die and it's entirely your fault."_

_James snapped. Before he had even thought about what he was doing, he heard his own voice shouting, "Crucio!"_

_But the spell hit the wall, causing a shower of rubble to fall down upon them. Voldemort had disappeared. Cold sweat formed on James's face and he held his breath for a moment. Then a voice from behind him said, "Now here's one a Death Eater of mine invented." James spun around just as Voldemort yelled, "Septumsempra!"_

_There was a flash of white, and he felt something sharp and hot graze his cheek. Blood began to flow. James cringed instinctively, and in that brief half second that he let his guard down, his fate sealed. A jet of red light hit him in the stomach with the force of a battering ram. His feet left the ground as with a breathless grunt, he was knocked backwards into the air like a bullet. His head smashed against something solid, white light burst in front of his eyes, he heard the beginning of a scream, and then everything went black._

_The next time he opened his eyes, he was surrounded by blank white walls, his memory empty._

"Ironic, isn't it? A lifetime of good work can make hardly a difference. But one ill-timed mistake can destroy everything. I let my guard down. One moment of rage and I went against everything I was ever taught in Auror training. Everything they told me about not letting your emotions cloud your judgement, all the hundreds of times Moody warned me about 'constant vigilance' – I ignored it. I let Moody down. I let the Ministry down, I let Lily and Harry down… I let the whole world down. In one moment."

Silence fell as James came to the end of his story, and he and Reiley both sat for a while, listening to the distant sounds of the traffic on the main road, and the dull hum of the electric heater. Snow was falling thickly outside the window now. James shivered, but not from cold. The room suddenly seemed as unfamiliar as if he'd never been there before. His life for the past fifteen years seemed like a very long dream that he'd just awoken from. He felt lost.

Eventually, James got wearily to his feet and crossed to the window. The snow formed a thick blanket over everything, the cars, the houses… The street was completely deserted. It all seemed strangely surreal. Finally, he spoke again.

"My wife and son could be dead. I don't know what that dream was about, but whatever it was I have to go back. I have to know. I have to try and repair some of the damage I've caused – if it's not already too late."

There was a pause.

"This is all true, isn't it?" said Reiley slowly. "You really are a wizard."

James gave a small smile and turned to his friend. "Surprise."

Reiley was looking at him with a mixture of disbelief and awe on his face, and as James looked back at him he knew how much Reiley must trust him to believe something like this; how open-minded he must be to realise that the strange things that happen around James could only be explained by magic. Sadness crept into his stomach, and the smile faded.

"I have to go back," James said again, softly.

"Well, duh," said Reiley. "You can't exactly hang around here now that you've remembered all this, can you? You have to find out if your family's okay."

"I'll probably be moving back there… for good."

Reiley gave him a sad smile. "I know. I was kind of waiting for it to happen. I knew the amnesia couldn't last for ever. But hey, that hardly means we're never going to see each other again, does it?"

There was another long pause, in which they just stayed where they were, looking around at various objects in the room, not knowing what to do next. Finally, Reiley got to his feet.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get your stuff. We've got to get you on the next flight to England."


	3. Return Home

**Chapter Three: Return Home**

Now that he had calmed down, James realised how ridiculously stupid his attempt to just walk out the door like that had been. He couldn't just run down to the airport in the snow, in bare feet, with no coat, no money and no passport and expect to get on a plane. While Reiley booked him a seat on the next flight to Britain over the phone, James quickly threw some things into a duffle bag. It would be a hundred times faster to Apparate than to fly but doing it over such a long distance, especially when you're fifteen years out of practice, would run the very great risk of getting you splinched. He might have chanced it except that the Ministry would have to come and sort him out, which would be the very best way to broadcast his return to the entire wizarding world. Setting up an unauthorised Portkey or taking the Knight Bus wouldn't be much better either. So he had no choice but to take the much slower Muggle transport.

James stuffed as many of his clothes as he could into the bag and rushed downstairs again, only to be told that the soonest flight to Britain was to Glasgow but didn't leave for another three hours. So they just had to wait. Reiley faked a bad case of food poisoning to get the day off work, and they sat in the living room while James filled him in on the details, not because it was really necessary, but to try to distract himself.

"Originally, my best friend Sirius was going to be Secret Keeper…"

"_Sirius_? Like the _star_?"

"Focus, Reiley!"

"Sorry."

"Originally Sirius was going to be the Secret Keeper but we switched at the last minute without telling anyone," James agonised.

"Why?"

"We thought Voldemort would probably expect us to use him. And Sirius reckoned we'd stand a better chance if we used our other friend, Peter, because Voldemort would never think of him. Peter was never the bravest of people and not the most reliable when it came to small things, but we never dreamed he'd do something like this. We knew there was a spy in the Order but he was probably the one person who we never considered it to be. We didn't think he had it in him. He was always really passive and just… a follower, I guess. He just sort of hung around and nobody in the Order gave him a second thought. But he was close enough to me and Lily and Dumbledore to know everything that was going on." He paused and stared ahead of him without really seeing anything. "Now that… now that I think about it, he… I can't believe we never suspected him… It was the perfect position for a spy to be in… right in the thick of things but with nobody noticing him… I mean, Voldemort obviously realised it, so why didn't we? Why didn't Dumbledore?"

No one said anything for a moment. Then Reiley, trying to break the uncomfortable silence, said, "But why didn't you tell anyone you'd changed the Secret Keeper?"

"Because we didn't know who the spy _was_. If everyone thought Sirius was it then that's what the spy would tell Voldemort, and as long as he was after Sirius then Peter was safe and Harry was safe. Don't look like that, it was Sirius's idea, Lily and I didn't force him into it. Sirius went into hiding too."

"But if Dumbledore was head of the Order then why not tell him? You couldn't have suspected him, could you?"

"Of course not. But we only decided on the change at the last minute when we were all gathered to put the charm into effect. Sirius brought Peter with him and suggested it. There was no way to send a message to Dumbledore without risking the Dark Side intercepting it. They can read our letters, we were suspecting that someone might be monitoring the Hogwarts fireplaces – we can talk through… never mind, I'll explain later – and we couldn't send a messenger because there was no one else we could trust to tell him. Sirius and Peter both needed to disappear immediately."

"So Peter betrayed you?"

Storm clouds seemed to gather behind James's eyes. Reiley knew that look, and knew the dark and frightening thoughts that must be going through James's mind. "Yes," he said softly.

"But then… isn't everyone going to think that it was Sirius who betrayed you?"

It took a couple of seconds for what Reiley had just said to sink in. And then James leapt to his feet, knocking a few things off the coffee table in front of him, a look of pure horror upon his face.

"Oh God…" James breathed. "Oh God, you're right… everyone _would_ think that… _Dumbledore_ would think that, h-he'd tell the Ministry about it… Sirius could be in prison or worse…"

He turned towards the door, then back to the sofa, then to the window and back to the door again. He felt completely helpless. He swore badly as he realised there was still another two and a half hours until the flight left.

"Look, why don't you get down to the airport?" Reiley suggested. "You're supposed to get there plenty early anyway. Go through security, sort your luggage out, and then wait there. At least you'll be doing something rather than just sitting around here."

"Yeah, yeah you're right, let's go."

But it only took twenty minutes to get to the airport and then half an hour to get through security and hand in their luggage. After that they were back to just waiting around. There was a small sandwich bar in the airport where they sat and tried to pass the time. James' stomach wouldn't allow him to eat anything, so he just bought some coffee, which grew increasingly cold without hardly being touched.

"You know, even when I'm on the damn plane I'm only going to be able to wait. For twenty four hours! Why did you have to get a job all the way out here? I should have just risked getting splinched."

"Oh yeah, then you'd be in a much better position than you are now, wouldn't you?"

"At least parts of me would be there quicker."

"Mm, an arm, an eyeball and part of your upper lip."

James gave a weak smile. It was hard. He felt like he was going to be sick.

Finally, after what seemed like ten years, James's flight was announced. Taking a deep, steadying breath, they got up from their seats and made their way to the gate, stopping briefly to buy a book so that James would have something to do on the plane. People were already getting on when they reached the gate.

"Now," said Reiley, turning James to face him, "you're going to call me and let me know what happens, all right? Don't forget me just because you've got your old friends back."

James grinned in spite of himself. "No chance of that, mate." He looked towards the gate and his smile faded. "Reiley… what if they _are_ all dead? What am I going to do? I mean, how am I supposed to cope with that? Come to think of it, what if they are alive? What the hell am I supposed to say? "Hi, honey, I'm home… bit late but oh well." What if Lily's moved on and found someone else? What if Harry doesn't want to know me? What if… what if I go back and everything's changed? It's been fifteen years and if Voldemort's still around then everyone I knew might be gone, he was picking us off one by one. How can I come back here and carry on with this life knowing how things should have been?" He looked at Reiley with despair etched into every inch of his face. "What if I've lost everything?"

For a moment there was silence between them. Finally Reiley said quietly, "What's worse, knowing or not knowing?"

James looked at him for a while. Then he pulled Reiley into a hug. When they broke apart, James took another deep breath.

"Well," he said bracingly. "I guess I'm going back."

Reiley nodded. Slowly, feeling as though he was turning his back on reality, James walked towards the gate.

"Hey!" Reiley called after him. James turned. "Good luck, Adi… I mean, James."

"Adi's fine."

The flight back to Scotland was one of the worse experiences of James's life. He was completely worn out but he couldn't sleep, his mind was too full of thoughts and worries and regrets. He was starving but his stomach was completely on edge and the thought of eating made him want to throw up. The only thing he could manage to keep down was liquids, and consequently he ended up semi-drunk on vodka, stopping only when the stewardess refused to give him anymore.

There was nothing to look at through the windows because they were travelling through cloud and the view was a solid mass of white and grey. The book he had bought just kept reminding him of everything that was happening and he eventually gave up on it. He tried watching the movie on the screen but it was just some cheesy teen horror film that made him picture all the gruesome ways in which Voldemort might have killed Lily and Harry. When it finished the tape rewound itself back to the beginning and played four more times before someone thought to change it. And then the second movie was about a man who lost his brother and set out to get revenge on his killer.

The hours dragged by. He tried to get comfortable in his seat but it was impossible. A kid behind him kept kicking the back of his seat, babbling nonsense and asking his parents stupid questions.

"Are we there yet?"

"Not yet."

"Why?"

"Because we're flying a long way and the plane can't get there that fast."

"Why?"

"It just can't."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Why?"

"I don't know everything, Tim."

"Why?"

James had to take a deep breath to stop himself from turning around in his seat and screaming at the boy.

About twelve hours in his body was so numb from sitting down so long that he decided to get up and walk to the bathroom just for the sake of getting his legs moving. He found he had diarrhoea. When he got back the second movie had rewound and started again.

An hour or two later they flew above a storm. Lightning flashed outside the windows and the plane shook as though they were in the middle of an earthquake. Plates and glasses rattled, children screamed, and the person sitting next to James, who clearly hated flying, was clutching the armrests so hard his fingernails were digging into the sponge, and he kept muttering statistics about plane crashes to himself.

After twenty-two hours, James was so tired he could barely move and his insides were aching with hunger. He managed to force down some of the plane food but it tasted terrible. Finally his eyes began to droop. He leaned his head wearily against the wall next to the window and drifted into an uneasy sleep, Lily and Harry weaving in and out of his dreams, crying.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we will shortly be arriving at Glasgow airport. Please make sure your seatbelts are securely fastened for the descent and that you have all your personal belongings with you when leaving the plane. We hope you had a pleasant flight."

James woke with a start in time to hear most of the announcement. Still half asleep, it had taken him a few moments to understand what was going on. _Finally_, he thought as it dawned on him at last, slumping down in his seat in relief. _That was the longest twenty-four hours of my life. Hell, it was longer than the forty-eight that it took for Harry to be born!_

Harry… He suddenly remembered why he was coming here. The anxiety that had plagued him throughout the flight suddenly hit him again and he retched, but managed to keep it in. He straightened up and put his seat belt back on with trembling hands. He looked out of the window. It was nearly dark outside, but far below he could see the vast mass of twinkling lights that was Glasgow. A gap in the clouds showed several stars and a half-moon shining so bright it might have been full.

James wondered what had happened to Remus. His despair increased as he thought of all the transformations Remus must have had to go through alone since he last saw him – if he was even still alive.

He shook this thought determinedly from his head as, with another announcement from the stewardess, the plane began its decent. James watched as the city grew nearer, the lights getting bigger and shapes more clearly defined. It had been twelve years since he had been in Britain, and a strange feeling came over James. It really felt like he was coming home. Despite the fear, a small but distinct part of him was feeling a kind of happiness he hadn't felt in a long time.

He could make out the runway below. Finally, with a small bump, the plane's wheels touched down onto solid ground. They drove along the runway for about ten more minutes, fast at first and then slower and slower until they came to a smooth, and greatly welcome, stop.

Grabbing the few things that he had brought onto the plane with him, James unbuckled his seat belt and joined the crowd now thronging the walkway. He wished they'd move faster. His impatience had increased tenfold now that they had landed, and he had a mad desire to run. At last he reached the door and stepped out into the still summer night air. It felt so strange. A day ago he had been surrounded by snow and now it was the middle of summer. He looked at his watch. It was nine o' clock. Back home that would have been nine a.m. Yep, it definitely felt weird.

To his utter dismay, he found a bus waiting outside the plane. That must mean that the exit was too far away to just run. He could almost have cried at that point. The bus seemed to go so slowly that by the time they got out he was sure he had pulled some of his hair out. He ran into the airport, picked up his luggage as quickly as he could, and then hurried towards the exit.

Now he just needed to find a place to Apparate… but Apparate to where exactly? He stopped. He had been so focused on getting back to the U.K. that he hadn't even thought what he was going to do when he got there. He had no idea where Lily and Harry might be if they were alive, or Sirius or Remus or anyone. He stood for a few moments, chewing his bottom lip, thinking. Yes… it was the only place he could go… Making up his mind, he looked around for somewhere secluded where he could Apparate.

He headed for the car park and looked around for the biggest vehicle he could find. There was a white van nearby, and he walked swiftly towards it. Once hidden behind it, he lowered the arm holding his bag, closed his eyes and took another deep breath to try and steady himself. _Okay_, he thought, _focus, James. You remember how to do this. Just concentrate._

Focusing solely on his destination, James felt an invisible wall close in around him, pressing into every inch of him until he could barely breathe. A second later, it had gone. The sounds around him had changed. All was quiet. Peacefully quiet. Breathing heavily in excitement, James opened his eyes.

He was standing on an earth track somewhere out in the country. There were no buildings around him, just trees and grass and dirt. In the distance, he could see a small cluster of lights. Great clouds were obscuring the sky and as he stood there he heard an ominous roll of thunder from somewhere overhead.

After checking himself over to make sure he was still all there, James actually grinned and an amazingly elated feeling came over him, making him forget for a moment everything that had had happened. Slowly, very slowly, he turned around.

In front of him was a giant gateway, flanked by stone pillars, on top of which sat winged boars looking down on him out of blank eyes, like motionless sentries. Beyond them was almost total blackness, but squinting he could just make out the hulking outline of a castle on a hill, all of its windows dark. James's heart was beating very fast now.

He was home.


	4. Some Things Stay The Same

Chapter Four:

Some Things Stay The Same

There was another loud crash of thunder and James felt a drop of water fall onto his head. Within seconds the rain was coming down like bullets. He cringed. He had forgotten about British weather.

Hogwarts was shrouded in darkness. The hulking silhouette of its turrets and towers looked slightly eerie and a shiver ran down James' spine to see it. The castle's many windows were unlit and with a sinking feeling James realised that the summer holidays must have already started. The school was empty. Its only occupant outside term time was Argus Filch, and he was definitely not someone James wanted to see right now. Or ever, for that matter.

He gazed at the castle for a few moments, feeling strange. It seemed unreal, like he'd stumbled upon a place he'd once known in a previous life. He wasn't sure if he was happy to see it again, or sad.

James worked his brain, trying to think what to do. Perhaps he should go down to the village. It was possible that Dumbledore's brother still worked in the Hog's Head. There was a long overcoat in his bag that had a hood and he wouldn't look suspicious in that pub if he kept it up while he talked to Aberforth. He was just about to open his bag to get the coat when something caught his eye - a faint glimmer of light within the grounds. He grasped the bars of the gate and squinted towards it. Almost everything in that direction was pitch black, so black there might have been an empty vacuum there. The Forbidden Forest. His heart leapt. The light was coming from a window. By the flickering quality and the faintness of it, it was a fire lit in a grate – the grate of Hagrid's hut.

Excitement and relief spread through James' limbs like liquid warmth. Of course, Hagrid stayed at the school during the summer too! He looked up at the towering gates, and then at the padlock. How was he supposed to get in if not through the gates? He had no wand to do magic, and he was probably too rusty to be able to do anything without one. Neither did he have a broom he could use to fly in. Maybe he could use one of the secret passages… But Honeydukes would surely be closed by now, and he wasn't going to break and enter if he could help it; and the one from the Shrieking Shack would be of no use because even if he managed to get inside the shack, he wouldn't be able to get past the Whomping Willow.

In spite of himself, a little thrill ran through him at the thought that he was remembering all of these things.

James looked up at the gates again. They had an intricate, curling design to them that he might just be able to get a foothold on. He looked at his bag and considered for a moment. Then, making up his mind, he picked up the duffle bag and slipped one handle over each of his arms so that he was wearing it like a very tight backpack. Then he took a deep breath and started to climb, hoping the school would allow him entry, and wondering how on earth Hagrid was going to react to having James Potter turn up on his doorstep.

Hagrid read the _Daily Prophet_ with a grave expression. Two more Muggles found dead that morning. That made the third incident that week alone. It seemed that Voldemort was now fully active again and out to show the Wizarding World that he had regained _all_ of his former power. From what Hagrid had heard from the Order, Voldemort hadn't even sent his first blackmail message to the Ministry yet. He was building up the fear first.

Sighing morosely, Hagrid rolled the paper up and went to put the kettle on. He was exhausted. He'd spent most of the day in the Forest, looking for Grawp. Since the incident with Umbridge and the centaurs he had completely disappeared. _Disappeared_ being the operative word. You wouldn't think it would be difficult to find a sixteen-foot giant in the middle of a forest. Just follow the trail of devastation. But that was just it – the trail had reached a certain point and then stopped. After that there was nothing. No footprints, no uprooted trees, no sign of him at all. Hagrid was frantic with worry and he wasn't the only one who was concerned. Dumbledore had taken a keen interest too. It was clear that Grawp was not in the Forest anymore… and that he didn't leave of his own accord. The whole thing reeked of Dark Magic.

With Grawp missing, Voldemort terrorising the world again, Sirius dead and poor young Harry in the state that he was in, Hagrid didn't think he could take much more. And the war had only just started.

"Well, it's to be expected, isn't it?" he said to Fang, scratching the boarhound's ears. "We all knew he'd come back sooner or later, and it'd be very suspicious if nothin' like this came of it. There was loadsa disappearances las' time, and not all of 'em turned out dead… BUT WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE GRAWPY?" He stifled a huge sob, and then struggled to compose himself. "Well," he continued quietly, more to himself than to Fang, "like I said, we all knew it'd be like this. And I don't doubt more extraordinary things are gonna happen before it's all over."

There was a knock at the door. Hagrid paused in pouring hot water into the teapot, all of his senses suddenly on alert. Who would be coming to see him at this time of night during the holidays? He put down the kettle, picked up his crossbow from beside the table, then moved over to the window and pulled the curtain back a little.

There was a figure standing on his doorstep but he couldn't make out who it was through the rain washed glass. He pulled the curtain back a little further to allow more of the firelight to shine through. The person had dark hair and round glasses. Harry? What in the name of Merlin was that boy doing now?

Anger rising at Harry's foolishness, Hagrid let go of the curtain, went to the door and flung it open.

"Ha – "

He stopped dead. It wasn't Harry standing on the step. It was Harry's untidy black hair, Harry's glasses, several of Harry's other features…. but it was not Harry. Hagrid's body became slack and the crossbow fell to the floor with a thud. All coherent thought had been wiped from his mind as though by some invisible hand with a blackboard eraser. No… it couldn't be… it was _impossible_…

The man on the doorstep gave a small smile.

"Hello, Hagrid."

James had stood on the doorstep for nearly a minute before he'd gotten up the courage to knock. He had heard Hagrid's deep voice coming from inside and had frozen at the sound of it. He felt like he was dreaming, like Hagrid couldn't possibly really be in there. Finally, it was the freezing rain that made him raise his numb hand and knock. Hagrid's voice went silent. Was there someone in there with him, or had he been talking to himself? Several seconds passed in which nothing happened. Then all of a sudden the door was flung wide open, and James found himself looking up into his old friend's wild, bearded face.

"Ha – "

Hagrid froze mid-word and mid-movement, and something large – James didn't see nor care what it was – fell from his hands with a thud. Something in James's chest clenched painfully as he forced his mouth into a tiny smile.

"Hello, Hagrid," he said softly.

Hagrid mouthed wordlessly for few moments. Finally, in a slightly croaky voice: "J-James?"

"Yeah. Sorry it's been so long between visits, but…"

It was feeble and he knew it. Another half a minute passed without a word exchanged. Hagrid simply stared at him, his mouth slightly open. Finally James said quietly, "So… can I come in? Only I think it's going to rain."

Hagrid didn't say anything but moved aside to allow James past. James stepped over the threshold and looked around.

The gamekeeper's cabin looked almost exactly the same as it had the last time he had seen it. Everything was in the same place. The only new addition was a large wicker basket in the corner, in which a huge black boarhound lay, thumping his tail at James. He supposed this was who Hagrid had been talking to earlier. James patted the dog's head.

"Bit normal for you isn't it, Hagrid, a dog? You can't tell me you've gone off the fanged and vicious variety of animal?"

He turned around to face Hagrid, but then jumped back in alarm. Hagrid was pointing a crossbow at him.

"Hey, Hagrid!" He tried to sound calm, but there was a blazing fire burning in Hagrid's eyes and he looked completely wild. "I know I haven't visited in a while but there's no need to take it _that_ personally."

"A man who's supposed ter have been dead fer the las' fifteen years shows up on me doorstep and you 'spect me to just accept that it's him?"

Dead? Well, Voldemort must have thought that or he would surely have finished James off after he'd been knocked unconscious, so it probably made sense that everyone else thought the same.

"Okay, point taken," he said slowly. "In fact, you'd be a complete idiot if you did. Just don't shoot me before you've had the chance to make sure, okay?"

Hagrid paused for a moment. Then, without lowering the crossbow, he said, "Fine. I'm getting Professor Dumbledore down here. If yer not who yeh say yeh are, he'll find out."

James' heart leapt. Dumbledore! Besides Lily and Harry, Dumbledore was the very person he wanted to see. He supposed there was no chance of seeing the former two until the Headmaster was convinced of his identity, which could take a while.

"You do that."

Hagrid looked still more suspicious at James' lack of nervousness. He edged towards the fireplace, not taking his eyes off of James. One hand still maintaining a firm grip on the crossbow, he took a pinch of something out of a pot on the mantelpiece. Floo powder, James thought, remembering it for the first time in years. Every little piece of information he remembered gave him a little twinge of joy.

Hagrid threw the glittering powder into the flames, which turned emerald green, and called into it, "Professor Dumbledore, sir, I think yeh'd better come down here quick. There's someone here who… well, who's _claiming_ ter be James Potter."

James' heart beat frantically against his rib cage as he stared at the fire, waiting. A revolving shape appeared in the flames. A moment later, Albus Dumbledore was stepping gracefully out of the grate.

The first thing James noticed was that Dumbledore, like Hagrid, hadn't changed a bit since he'd last seen him (he wondered vaguely how much _he'd_ changed to _their_ eyes). The second thing he noticed was that Dumbledore was holding his wand very tightly in his right hand and was pointing it in James' direction, not directly at him but still close enough to have the upper hand if James tried anything.

James was breathing heavily now, barely able to contain his relief and joy at seeing his old Headmaster again. He knew it was irrational, especially after all the times he had seen Dumbledore so stressed during the war, but he felt like everything was okay now. Dumbledore had always seemed to present the answer to every problem when he was at school, and he felt… safe, somehow.

"Albus…" he breathed.

"This is a mad world," said Dumbledore, studying James critically with his light blue eyes, "and never so mad than it is right now. But not usually do people who died fifteen years ago suddenly turn up on a rainy summer evening. You must forgive us, therefore, for being a little cautious."

James nodded, finding his throat too restricted for speech. He knew Dumbledore's piercing gaze meant that he was searching James' mind for any hint of a lie.

"There are people who could benefit most handsomely from pretending to be you. It would be an opportunity to find out a lot of information, or else be in a prime position for an attack."

James unclogged his throat. "I understand. I didn't expect a royal welcome. Well, not at first anyway…" He grinned uncomfortably. "But really someone would have to be mad to try and pull a stunt like that because there's absolutely no way they could get away with it, especially once they've been force-fed Veritaserum."

The colour of Dumbledore's eyes seemed to be flickering. A second look, though, revealed that it was only the firelight reflecting off his glasses. Nevertheless, he seemed so impressive and imposing and, at this moment, almost a little frightening. James became painfully aware of his sodden clothes and straggly hair, and felt slightly pathetic.

"Unfortunately a lot of the people we are dealing with lately _are_ mad."

"Just give me a chance to prove it's really me," James continued, looking very seriously at the two of them. "Please."

Dumbledore nodded and indicated for James to sit down, but still he didn't lower his wand, nor Hagrid his crossbow. James sank onto one of the overlarge wooden chairs, his jeans squelching beneath him, deliberately putting his hands on the table where Dumbledore could see them. Dumbledore himself seemed to be thinking about something. Apparently making up his mind, he motioned for Hagrid to keep an eye on James and then turned back to the fireplace. After throwing more Floo Powder into it, the old wizard knelt down onto the floor and put his head into the flames. James wondered who he was calling. With a jolt to the heart, he wondered if it could possibly be Lily.

Two or three minutes passed, in which James, to distract himself, looked around the cabin more closely. Really everything seemed to be in exactly the same place. It was as though time had stood still in his absence. This comforted him slightly, though it still felt incredibly odd to be back, and he knew he wasn't likely to be quite so lucky in every aspect of his return. The boarhound, who didn't seem nearly so wary of him as Hagrid and Dumbledore, came and put his head on James' lap, and James scratched his ears. Hagrid's expression seemed to soften slightly.

Finally, Dumbledore pulled back from the fire and came and sat opposite James. There was silence for a few more minutes. Dumbledore hummed softly and twirled his wand in his hands. James watched it hungrily. A sudden longing had added itself to the mishmash of other feelings swirling inside him – he wanted his own wand back in his hands, wanted to cast a spell, any spell, perform magic again. He felt like he was missing a fundamental part of himself.

The flames in the fire turned emerald green again and another spinning shape appeared in it. Someone stepped out. James' eyes widened and he had to stifle a gasp of horror.

It was Mad-Eye Moody, and unlike Hagrid and Dumbledore, there was an immediately noticeable difference in him. Ever since James had known him, Moody's face and body had been scarred and misshapen from his many years catching Dark Wizards, but now it seemed he had lost an eye, too. One of them was dark, beady and normal, the way he remembered, and the other was round, electric blue and whizzing around in its socket. He looked even more frightening than ever and James suppressed a shudder as he tried not to think about how the old Auror might have lost an eye.

Moody looked round and fixed both eyes on James, who felt a flutter of nervousness pass through him. He had always been slightly scared of Moody.

"So! This is the impostor claiming to be James Potter, is it?" Moody barked. "Well, we'll soon see about that, won't we?"

James couldn't even bring himself to protest at being called an impostor straight off the bat.

"What are you staring at?" Moody demanded.

"N-nothing," James stammered. "J-just… your eye, sir, it…"

"Oh, yes." He grinned nastily, making his face seem more contorted than ever. "That happened after you were supposed to have died, didn't it? Clearly you've planned this properly."

He strode over to James, a dull thud sounding on his every other step and, leaning on the table, put his face right up close to James'.

"So… how are you doing it, eh?" Moody grunted. "You can't be using Polyjuice Potion, you'd need Potter's body for that. So what are you using?"

"I'm not using anything, sir. It's really me," James mumbled. He felt a bit stupid still calling Moody 'sir', but he couldn't bring himself not to.

"Sir, eh?" Moody smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant one. "Well, you're a good actor, whoever you are. I suppose Wormtail's filled you in on all the particular details of his old _friend_. If you're not Wormtail himself, that is. Oh, I hope you are, I'd love to be the one who caught him."

A surge of anger jolted through James at the sound of the name. He had hoped that Wormtail would be dead by now. It didn't even register that this meant Wormtail was a wanted man, or what that might mean about Sirius.

"I haven't seen him in fifteen years," he said darkly, forgetting his fear for a moment. "And if I ever do see him again they'll be locking me in Azkaban for murder."

Moody made a sound of amusement.

"I swear it really is me. There's no Dark Magic going on, there's no scam… I'm completely clean."

"Really? Well we'll just see about that."

Over the next hour, James was subjected to every identity test known to wizard kind. Secrecy sensors, dark-detectors, concealment charms, spells to force a Metamorphmagus to revert to their original form… They cast Finite Incantatem on him, did blood tests for traces of potions in his body, gave him various potions, everything they could think of that would reveal him as an impostor. But he came up clean on every single one. Dumbledore even disappeared into the fire and came back with a Kneazle in his arms, but the creature just jumped into James' lap and curled up and went to sleep while he scratched its ears. Then all three wizards started bombarding James with questions about himself. For a moment he was terrified he wouldn't be able to remember an answer, but they all came back to him readily enough.

Finally, even Moody seemed satisfied that he was who he said he was. Not even the most powerful wizard in the world would have managed to get through _all_ of those tests if they were concealing something. The three of them were looking at James differently now, like they couldn't believe what was happening.

"I can't believe it," said Hagrid weakly, tears welling up in his beetle black eyes. "I jus' can't believe it! All these years we thought you were dead an' now here yeh are! Oh what a thing ter happen in the middle of all this misery!"

A second later, James found himself being crushed in Hagrid's vice-like arms.

"I won't be alive for very long if you don't let go of me, Hagrid!" he choked.

Hagrid chuckled between his tears and released him. James straightened his clothes, grinning, and turned to Dumbledore, who was beaming at him.

"I should have known," he said quietly, his eyes twinkling, "that you couldn't be gotten rid of so easily."

James grinned even wider. "Duh."

"Now hold on just one minute," barked Moody. "If you _are_ James Potter, which I suppose you must be, then I think that raises the question of where exactly you've been all these years."

James' spirits dropped. It suddenly dawned on him just how very… unbelievable it would all sound. Ludicrous in fact!

"Well…" he said slowly. "It's kind of a long story. A very long story."

"We have all the time you need. And just for the record, I think you should drink this first." He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small bottle of an amber liquid. James knew that whatever it was, it was laced with Veritaserum.

"You don't trust me anymore, sir, do you?" he said with a smile, though he reached out to take it from Moody, who grunted. "Cheers," he added, before tossing back the liquid in one gulp.

A strange, unearthly sort of feeling came over him. All thoughts disappeared from his mind. It felt a lot like being under the Imperius curse. All worries and cares drifted from his mind, and he felt as though he was floating. He was vaguely aware of movement next to him. And then Moody's voice penetrated his empty mind.

"Just for the record… you _are_ the real James Potter, aren't you?"

"Yes," James answered automatically, without even considering the question.

"Just making sure."

James was under the Veritaserum for a full half an hour, during which he told them everything without thought – from what had happened that night in Godric's Hollow, right up to knocking on Hagrid's door.

When he had finished talking, the room was silent. Gradually the effects of the potion began to wear off and he became aware that Moody, Hagrid and Dumbledore were standing by the door, whispering among themselves. He could only just hear what they were saying.

"…couldn't have been lying," Dumbledore was saying. "No one can lie under Veritaserum, not even Voldemort himself. And besides that I don't think for a minute that James Potter would be hiding anything sinister."

"Pretty unbelievable story, though," Moody growled.

"Actually, when you think about it, it fits perfectly with what we know happened. When Mundungus went to the house to see what was going on, he asked the Muggle paramedic if they'd got everyone out, and the paramedic said yes. Nothing was said about _how many_ people had been taken out. The Muggles couldn't find anyone else at the time, just James. Nor did the paramedic say anything about the condition James was in. We all thought we knew that already. And we never got their bodies back because there was no way to do it without admitting to the Muggles that we knew them, and the police were asking questions."

"I can' believe I didn't check! If only I had checked to make sure he was actually dead!" Hagrid's voice was shaky. "He was covered in rubble an' wood an' stone, I couldn' see if he was injured or anythin', I just assumed it was the killin' curse as always."

"Don't blame yourself, Hagrid. Sirius must have assumed the same."

James felt a jolt run through him. Sirius was there, at Godric's Hollow?

"Well, I fully believe his story," Dumbledore continued. "This _is_ James Potter. And I needn't even begin to say what this is going to mean to a certain person we've all been worried about."

Dumbledore and Hagrid seemed very pleased, and James shifted discreetly closer, intrigued.

"Alastor, when you return to Headquarters, could you please inform the Order of what has happened?"

Moody, from what James could see of his gnarled face, was still looking grave.

"Of course. But, Dumbledore, don't you see?" he muttered seriously. "If what he says is true then he hasn't a clue what's been going on since he got knocked out. He doesn't know about Lily _or_ Harry _or_ Sirius."

Hagrid's face fell and he looked ready to burst into tears. The light in Dumbledore's eyes went out. James felt a sudden clenching of his stomach that made him feel sick, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "What about them?"

The other three wizards jumped in surprise. Then they looked even graver.

"I think perhaps you'd better come up to my office, James," said Dumbledore gently. "There is a lot we need to talk about."


	5. Broken

Chapter Five:

Broken

The castle seemed so strange and empty as James followed Dumbledore through the corridors. Some passages had windows that cast pale moonlight across the floor, but in others it was pitch black. The candle in Dumbledore's hand cast a sphere of flickering light around them, but all outside that sphere was in darkness. Objects loomed sinisterly out at them as they passed, and their footsteps against the stone echoed around them. Portraits whispered and flitted in and out of their frames, and suits of armour turned their heads with a rusty creak. Drafts whistled around them, making James shiver. He was unnerved and confused. Never before had Hogwarts frightened him. It was like having a dog who was his best buddy suddenly turn and bite him.

It was only now starting to truly dawn on James just how long he had been away. Some things were the same, but other things were so very, very different. He remembered the few times he had visited Hogwarts after his graduation, how students had looked at him in confusion and curiosity, how he had felt like an outsider in the place he had still wanted to think was his home. These were the same corridors that James had walked a thousand times before, corridors he knew better than any student probably ever had or ever would again… But he realised now that they were not _his_ corridors anymore. Totally unfamiliar faces roamed these halls now. Totally unfamiliar minds were being taught the lessons he himself had sat through. Someone else claimed the good seats in front of the common room fire. Someone else slept in his bed. Perhaps some of the current inhabitants were even the children of the people he had been to school with. It seemed so strange that they should be grown up. It seemed so strange that _he_ should be grown up.

It was Hogwarts, but not _his_ Hogwarts anymore, and being here just reminded him how he had lost his place in it. A part of him wanted to cry at how old and alone he felt. He had never really been frightened of death, but the idea of growing old and slowly losing his energy had always frightened him. He had never felt so close to the day when that would happen as he did now.

When they reached Dumbledore's office there was a flurry of movement all around the walls and several small gasps. James might have taken comfort in the fact that Dumbledore's office was also the same as the last time he had seen it, except that the last time he had seen it was the last time he had seen all three of his best friends and his wife together – and the last time he had been in a room with his betrayer.

James' insides were twisting like a cloth being wrung. He sat in the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk and gripped the armrests hard to try and stop himself from shaking. Dumbledore sat opposite him and surveyed him closely. James' heart thumped in his chest. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he waited for Dumbledore to speak.

"I must admit I never expected this," the old wizard said softly. "I honestly cannot express how much of a difference your coming home will mean to everyone. They will all be overjoyed to see you."

_They?_ James thought, his breath catching in his throat. _Everyone?_

"I am sure there are many questions that _you_ wish to ask. And I am sure that the one you most want answered concerns Lily and Harry, am I right?"

James nodded, feeling hot vomit rising in his throat at the distressed look on Dumbledore's face. There was a few seconds of silence and then Dumbledore spoke quietly.

"I wish there was a way to spare you this. But you have to be told and it's always best to get these things over and done with. Part of the answer I must give you is good – " James' almost jumped out of his seat, " – but the other part…" He paused only a few more seconds before he continued. "You know, a month ago another person sat in that same chair where you are now to whom I had to give dreadful news. We stayed here until past sunrise. There was shouting, tears, grief – much like there will be now. When he left this office his life was changed forever – much as yours will be now. Do you know who that person was?"

James shook his head violently. He wanted to punch Dumbledore to force him to get on with it.

"It was Harry."

A moment or two passed in silence before these words started to register a meaning in James' head. A numb realisation crept over him as Dumbledore's words played again and again in his mind. It was Harry. _It was Harry_. That meant… that meant that Harry was…

A tentative smile started to form on James' face. Then, suddenly, the smile exploded into a grin and he started to laugh. He laughed so loud and he wasn't even sure why. He leaned his head back and ran his hands over his face. Tears of joy were welling up in his eyes. _Harry was alive_. He didn't know how to handle the happiness anymore than the worry. He couldn't stop laughing…

Until Dumbledore spoke again.

"James, I wish there was nothing else to tell you, and that I could leave you to enjoy this happiness. But the more I let that happiness grow, the more it will hurt you when I tell you the rest. Yes, Harry is alive, and considering everything he has been through, in perfect physical health. But you also wanted to know about Lily."

James choked.

"After you passed out that night, Voldemort went after Harry. Lily tried to stop him. She refused to let Voldemort near Harry, even begged Voldemort to kill her instead."

James was shaking now. A realisation was starting to dawn on him, and he was struggling to wrestle it into submission. He wouldn't believe it… not until Dumbledore said it straight out…

"In the end, he… he killed her to get her out of the way."

And James was broken.

James seemed to diminish before Dumbledore's eyes. He sank slowly into his chair, all of the colour draining from his face, until he was left pale as death and twice as cold. His eyes, normally bright and alive, were now like two shards of glass. Empty. Lifeless. Soulless. Dumbledore was reminded forcefully of a man who had just received the Dementor's Kiss.

And then, slowly, emotion started to seep back into James's face and his breathing became harsher. His eyes, glazed with desperation, started to dart about the room as though looking for some kind of visible comfort. He looked at Dumbledore, he looked at the desk, he looked at the floor, he looked around the room but couldn't focus on any of them. He made a sudden movement as though he was going to stand up, but then slumped back down again. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again. And still his eyes moved about the room. He looked like a man who didn't know what to do.

Dumbledore could hardly bare to watch the sight in front of him. He struggled to find something, _anything_, to say that would comfort James, but he knew it was hopeless. There were no words in any language in the world that would even help to ease the pain right now. And the worst of it was that Dumbledore couldn't even leave James in peace to come to terms with this news yet. There was another blow he needed to deliver, and this one James wasn't even expecting.

Wanting to at least break the silence, Dumbledore said, "I know this has probably been said to every person who has ever lost a loved one during a war, and that it doesn't make the slightest bit of difference this soon, but if Lily could have chosen her own death it would have been the one she had – protecting someone she loves."

James suddenly leapt out of his chair. For a moment, Dumbledore thought the younger man was going to scream at him. Perhaps that had been his intention, but a moment later James was practically running towards the door.

"James, wait, I'm afraid there is one more thing I must tell you before you leave."

James stopped with his hand on the doorknob, but didn't turn around. Dumbledore paused for a moment, wondering how best to phrase this.

"It is better to deliver all the blows in quick succession than let you recover from one before hitting you again." He took a deep breath and then continued. "I am not going to beat about the bush, but just tell you this straight out… Sirius is dead too. He died about a month ago in battle."

James' back was still to him, so Dumbledore couldn't see his face, but his entire body visibly tensed for a moment. Then, suddenly, every muscle in him gave way and he slumped forward against the door and slid down onto the floor. For a moment, Dumbledore thought that he had fainted and rose to help, but then realised James was still holding the door handle above his head.

A few minutes passed in which the only thing that could be heard were long, gasping breathes. Then James took a firmer grip on the door handle, pulled himself up, clumsily opened the door and rushed out. And Dumbledore let him go. He could hear him stumbling down the spiral stairs like as though drunk, and then the statue at the bottom opening and closing. Dumbledore sat back in his chair and put his face in his hands.

It was a full hour before James came back and when he did Dumbledore could hardly bear to look at him. James' eyes and nose were red and blotchy, his hair was in worse disarray than ever and he looked completely and utterly exhausted. His body was slumped from weakness, and his eyes were shadowed. But what troubled Dumbledore most was that the shadows were not just under the eyes, but also in the eyes. The deadened, soulless look was back, and the old wizard wondered just how permanently James would be scarred by this. In his hundred and fifty years he had seen grief do terrible things to many a person. Some had been driven to the Dark Side, but many more had developed a life long obsession with destroying that which had caused the grief, dominating their lives, making them sick, driving them nearly mad in their quest for revenge. Dumbledore knew that James was not the person to suffer the former fate, but he wasn't so sure about the latter. James was not known for being rational.

The younger man sat back down in his former seat, his face expressionless and hollow. When he spoke, his voice was just as dead as his eyes.

"I want to know everything that happened."

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Yes, I know. However, before I launch into a very long and rather complicated story, I have tidings of another person that you might be interested to hear about, of whom I can deliver much pleasanter news."

He studied James carefully for his reaction. He was afraid that there would be none at all, that James' grief might cause him to completely lose interest in everyone else, however he thought he saw a flutter of emotion pass across James' face. It might have been hope.

"Who?"

"Remus."

A light flickered in James's eyes and he sat slightly straighter.

"He's all right?" he asked guardedly.

Dumbledore smiled gently. "He is. He's on an assignment for the Order of the Phoenix at the moment, but I have sent a message to him and no doubt he will hurry back at the first available moment."

James seemed to relax a little. Dumbledore allowed him a moment to savour the relief before speaking again.

"Now, as to your previous request… I suppose I had better start at the beginning."

Dumbledore launched into the story of what had happened the night of October 31st fifteen years previously. He told James again how Lily had refused to let Voldemort kill Harry and had been killed in her attempts to save him; he told him how Lily's sacrifice had given Harry a powerful protection that had caused Voldemort's defeat; he told of Sirius's arrest and the crimes he had been accused of, and how twelve years later he had escaped from Azkaban and the truth had come out. He omitted a lot of the details from this part, as it would have meant straying off onto all kinds of other tangents, but he explained that Sirius had met Harry and had had to go into hiding. Then he told of Voldemort's return the following year, and how the Ministry hadn't believed that it had happened. And finally he related the events that had happened a month ago – how Harry had been tricked into going to the Department of Mysteries (although, again, not going into any detail as to how he was tricked, since that would have involved several revelations about Harry that James was not ready to hear), and how Sirius had gone to the Ministry to try and help and had ended up falling through the veil during a duel with Bellatrix Lestrange.

By the time he had finished, James's mind was so full of thoughts and questions and regrets and sorrows that he just couldn't sort through them all. His brain was almost aching from all the information that was being fed into it, and he wondered if he might forget half of it by tomorrow as a defence mechanism. He was, by now, more exhausted than he had ever been in his life. It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't slept more than a couple of hours in the last one and a half days.

"I don't think I can handle anymore tonight," he said quietly.

Dumbledore nodded understandingly. "It has been a long day for you. I suggest that you try and get some rest. A potion for dreamless sleep and some peace and quiet is what you need. Things will seem better in the morning, they always do. You can stay in the castle tonight and then tomorrow…"

But James wasn't listening anymore. His mind was on overload and seemed to be on the verge of shutting down completely. He allowed himself to be lead from the office and followed Dumbledore blindly through the dark and empty corridors. He wanted to get away from here. The castle seemed haunted by the ghosts of a thousand memories. He could almost hear far off voices echoing in the endless passageways, shadows of things the castle had seen released from the walls to taunt him. He could hear children laughing and shouting and chatting happily, voices many of which were now silent forever. And then, as they passed a tapestry by a window at the end of a corridor on the third floor, a vivid déjá vu came over him – the corridor was suddenly filled with light, birds were twittering outside the open window, and a fifteen year old Sirius was standing in front of the tapestry, his schoolbag slung over his shoulder, arms crossed, top button undone as it always was. He turned his head, saw James walking towards him and a broad grin spread across his face. Then Sirius's voice was calling to him from somewhere far away.

"_Get a move on, Prongs, you pillock, they're already down there!"_

James's heart skipped a beat, and he almost opened his mouth to reply. But then the vision was gone, the corridor was dark once again, and there was no one standing by the tapestry. James felt a blow to the stomach – Sirius was not here, and he would never see him again.

"Here we are."

It took a few moments for James to even recognise what part of the castle he was in.

"This is Professor Tilly's office."

"Professor Tilly left around the same time as you, remember?" said Dumbledore gently. "These rooms are currently unoccupied. We're still going through Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers like a hot knife through butter. I'm sure Harry will have a lot to say on the recent teachers."

Dumbledore unlocked the door with a muttered spell and pushed it open.

"Make yourself at home. I'll have a house elf bring you everything you need, as well as the sleeping potion. We'll meet again in the morning after breakfast, all right?"

James nodded. Dumbledore handed him the candle, put a comforting hand on James's shoulder for a brief moment, then turned and swept away up the corridor, his long robes trailing along the ground behind him. James was left alone.

He stepped inside the office and shut the door. The last time he'd been in here he'd been in trouble for putting timers on dungbombs and putting them in all the toilets in the castle. They had all exploded at once and water had gone everywhere. More than one student had been using a toilet at the time. Professor Tilly had caught him and Sirius and brought them here to wait for McGonagall. Instinct told James he should be smiling at the memory but the muscles around his mouth just weren't working.

The office was now barren except for a sofa, an empty bookcase, the teacher's desk, a students' desk and two chairs stacked by the door.

James put the candle down on the teacher's desk. He wished Reiley were there. He'd never lived alone in his entire life, except for the first few weeks after he'd left the hospital, and now he found himself on his own and starting his life over for the third time in two decades.

As he stood there in the semi-darkness images and sounds and memories flooded his brain and suddenly his strength gave out. He collapsed on the sofa and let the cushions soak up the tears that leaked out of his eyes. He barely noticed the house elf who came to bring him the sleeping potion and some food and amenities. He stayed there without moving for what seemed like hours. Silence pressed in on him from all sides like he was underwater and he just stared at the flickering shadows the candlelight cast upon the walls. It seemed as if there were no other person in the world. There might as well have been a nuclear holocaust and he the only survivor. A thousand thoughts and worries and regrets spun around in his head. In the time that he lay there he missed just about every person he had ever known – he missed Remus, he missed Reiley, he missed his mother and father, he missed the Peter he had known at school, he missed Professor Tilly, he missed Harry, but most of all he missed Sirius and Lily. What wouldn't he give right now to see a friendly face, any familiar face?

He was just considering whether or not he should go back down to Hagrid's when a knock at the door brought him back to his surroundings with a jolt. He had very nearly actually convinced himself that he was the only person in existence and having someone suddenly show up was almost a shock. He looked at the clock and found that he'd only been lying there for about half an hour. Vaguely wondering who it could be but not really caring, James slithered off the sofa and rushed to the door and opened it.

He stopped dead in the doorway, for the person whose face he was looking into was one of the best people who could have shown up at that moment.

"Remus…" he breathed.

Thank you so much to all the people who have reviewed! It is great knowing that people are interested enough that they keep posting, asking after the next chapter.

I just wanted to clarify that I have no intention to abandon this story. The chapters may be a little long in coming but they will come. I have put too much effort into this story so far to give it up. Some of you have already signed up to get email notifications of new chapters, and I would advise the rest to do the same, that way you don't have to keep checking.

In reply to some reviews:

**theform** – There will be a little extra explanation of James's amnesia later on in the fic, just to make it a little more conceivable.

**Morgan** – (One of my loyal readers grin) I am British, so I can assure you that Britain does indeed most definitely get thunderstorms! We've had at least one recently. Actually, we get one after every bout of hot weather. grumbles Our thunderstorms might not be as spectacular as in some parts of the world, but we do get them. I'm sure they've been mentioned in the Harry Potter books too.

**PadyandMoony** – I am _very_ evil when it comes to cliff-hangers. grin They are a very useful tool when you are writing a serial story.


End file.
